


Correct Me if I'm Wrong

by Pixiepeekboo



Category: Marvel
Genre: Boyfriends, Fluff, M/M, college students au, roommates au, spideypool fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26417806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixiepeekboo/pseuds/Pixiepeekboo
Summary: College roommates Peter and Wade have had their differences, but it's starting to feel like they've moved past that. Peter asks Wade if he wants to go biking with him, still.This fic is based off a text message otp prompt from Tumblr by @flavorfulevening
Relationships: Spiderpool, Spideypool
Comments: 4
Kudos: 89





	Correct Me if I'm Wrong

We still on for biking today? Peter texted his roommate. 

He didn’t trust Wade to keep any of his promises made late at night, while playing video games and drinking kombucha. But still, he hoped he would. Lately, there’d been an easy camaraderie between them that made Peter think that maybe they could be friends. It had been rough going the first few months of renting the apartment together. Where Peter was introspective and quiet, Wade was boisterous and loud. Study hours were interrupted by screaming matches. Microwave dinners collided with heaping platters of takeout. No matter how much they got on each other’s nerves with their lifestyles, though, it never resulted in anything worse than clipped insults. Neither of them could afford the apartment on their own.

Peter suspected Wade might have been able to afford his own place if he would stop spending all his money on guns. He had an entire closet devoted to them, and a dresser filled with the corresponding ammunition. How he earned his money for his expensive collection, Peter knew better than to ask. And if Wade came home at three in the morning with blood splatters on his face, or a bandage around his side, Peter never commented: he simply helped him out of his clothes and guided him to the shower to scrub away the unpleasantness.

The grey bubbles appeared; Wade was texting back. He’d gone out to get some coffee earlier and was probably on his way back. It seemed too much to hope that he would have remembered his promise. The thought of biking alone, though, filled Peter with an aching loneliness. He liked Wade’s company, when he wasn’t being a dick.

Yeah, man, Wade texted. I can’t wait to ride you all day long.

With a euphoric grin, Peter tucked his helmet against his hip and headed for the kitchen to swipe a key before leaving the apartment. He did not want to examine the source of the serotonin too closely. He was just happy for the chance to get to know Wade better – and also spend the day doing something he loved, with someone he liked – tolerated – co-existed with - without having to worry about all the other responsibilities he was neglecting.

Hold up. What had Wade written?

Peter whipped the phone closer, until his nose was practically touching the screen.

I can’t wait to ride you all day long.

That had to be a typo. A dirty thrill chased down Peter’s spine. It wasn’t that he was immune to his roommate’s charms. Hell to the no, he wasn’t. Wade was all sorts of gorgeous – thick and blonde and muscular in a way that made Peter’s stomach tighten. He was built like a weapon and while Peter was adverse to most violence, Wade was one trigger he wouldn’t mind pulling. Except, that couldn’t happen, because Wade was as promiscuous as they came, and they were roommates, besides. If they dated, and it didn’t work out, there’d be a fight over the apartment, and Peter would leave, because he hated fighting, and then he’d have to go to one of the run-down apartments with broken windows and doors that didn’t lock since he couldn’t afford anything else.

Uhm, Peter typed back, swiping his keys from the counter and striding for the front door. He waited for Wade to make a joke. That had to be what he was trying to do. Make Peter shake his head with embarrassment for the both of them.

Oh, shit! Sorry! That came out wrong!

Wade texted back so fast that he must have reread what he’d written and realized his phone changed what he meant to say. Relief released the tension in Peter’s shoulders. Despite it being slightly disappointing, it was for the best.

Lol. It’s all good, man. Autocorrect, am I right?

Peter undid the door chain. It wasn’t like Wade to apologize; he liked to make Peter squirm, doing anything and everything he could to make him blush.  
His phone buzzed with another text notification and Peter glanced at the screen as he opened the door.

Yeah, my bad, Lol

I meant “night”

The keys fell from Peter’s hand. Absently, he watched them fall, but couldn’t muster the desire to grab them. Did Wade – 

A hand snatched out before the keys could hit the floor and caught them. The hand was attached to an arm and the arm was attached to Wade and fuck – Peter wanted him. But he had to be teasing – it couldn’t be real. He must have found out that Peter liked him and wanted to play.

Peter looked in Wade’s eyes, filled with prankish good humor.

“So, let me get this straight,” Peter said.

Wade smirked. “There’s nothing straight about you, Peter Parker.” 

He offered him a Styrofoam cup of coffee, which Peter accepted robotically. His roommate stepped closer, until they shared the same space, one of his massive hands rising to cup Peter’s neck. He squeezed the cup too tightly. His fingers punctured the sides and coffee scalded his hand. He yelped and dropped the cup as Wade pulled him closer. Their foreheads touched. Every single part of Peter’s body exploded in fire.

Wade released a breath that smelled like coffee and whiskey and cotton candy.

“I want it on the record that I did try to resist. I did. But you’re just too damn pretty.” He tilted his head and fluttered his eyelashes in butterfly kisses across Peter’s forehead and nose, down toward his mouth. Peter sucked in a breath, licking his lips.

Their mouths met, soft and open, falling against each other. A keening noise reverberated in the back of Wade’s throat and then he bit Peter’s lip.

Peter gasped, hands flying up to grab fistfuls of his roommate’s shirt – one of his, he realized distantly. It was stretched tight around his broad chest and shoulders, broadcasting how ridiculously chiseled he was. Though Peter wasn’t without muscle himself, it was the sculpted, slender sort vaguely reminiscent of a dancer, all the edges subtle yet hard. Wade was built like a fighter: broad and touchable. Peter grabbed his shoulder blades, and knocked him back against the wall. One of them accidentally kicked the stool near the door, knocking it and the bowl of candy (Wade’s idea) to the mat.

“Wait,” Peter said breathlessly, breaking away from Wade's mouth with a strength he hadn't known he possessed. “What if this is a bad idea?”

Wade flicked the tip of Peter’s nose. “There are no bad ideas,” he said, “only poorly executed good ones.”

Before Peter could protest again, he cradled his face between his hands and kissed him senseless.


End file.
